


You Carry My Heart On Your Sleeve

by Morrigan2345



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Frank POV, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigan2345/pseuds/Morrigan2345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thought that comes to mind when her door opens and she’s standing in front of him in what could only be the tightest black dress he’s ever seen is that she looks good.</p><p>Really good.</p><p>The second thought is that he shouldn't have thought that.</p><p>The third thought is that he couldn’t give less of a shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Carry My Heart On Your Sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, i've only written two fics with these two and they're both smut... does that say something about me..
> 
> anyway, the characters are a bit tipsy in this fic, not full blown drunk and by the beginning of the action they're fine but still if that skeeves you out you have been warned..
> 
> This is a lot of porn... Happy Easter or whatever
> 
> All spelling and grammatical errors are mine, sorry!

The first thought that comes to mind when her door opens and she’s standing in front of him in what could only be the tightest black dress he’s ever seen is that she looks _good_.

Really good.

The second thought is that he shouldn't have thought that.

The third thought is that he couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Where’d you come from?” he asks, trying to drag his eyes away from the cut of fabric that goes all the way up her thigh.

She opens the door further, letting him in, “Auction Event.  I had to snoop around a little, actually it was kind of funny…” she keeps talking, and he’d really like to be paying attention but she’s turning around and slipping off her heels one by one.  The dress parts further and he has to suck in a shallow breath, his hands twitch at his sides.  Fingernails bite into his palms and it shakes him back to reality, quick enough for him to catch the end of her story.

“…And I think I have enough for my piece anyway, even if he probably won’t go to jail anytime soon, he sure as hell won’t be going to any fancy auction event anymore after next week’s paper.  Speaking of fancy, I snagged some wine, the good kind.” She says expectantly, turning around to finally face him, and his eyes snap up, quick enough to make him wince.  If she just saw him ogling her ass, she doesn’t show it though, so he nods his head quickly.

She leads him to her tiny kitchen, bigger then the one he only got a glimpse of before it was riddled by bullets.  She lifts her small bag onto the counter, or what he thought was small because then she’s pulling out a wine bottle that should have not been able to fit in there.  He says nothing though, just enjoys watching her grip the bottle and retrieve two wine glasses. 

When she has her back turned from him again he resolutely decides he needs to get a grip of himself as he sits down at her small table.  She didn’t ask for his eyes to be all over her, neither tonight or for the past few months after he came back to her, trying to get back into her good graces. 

He pushed only a little, trying to suck up by giving her information for her writing and buying her food on multiple occasions.  It was small stuff, but she took him back, quicker than he would've expected.

He even took her to pick up his dog from the kennel the police had put him in.  In the last couple of months his favourite memory is of his dog straining against his leash trying to get to him.  Even though it brought back the memory of that Irish bastard, Karen’s happy laugh and the dogs increasingly louder whines brought him back to reality.  His dog stayed by his side, but let himself get scratched by Karen and he didn’t reject the treats she gave him either.

“What are you smiling about?” her voice interrupts the memory, she places down two glasses and fills both more than half way.  She slides it over to him and he brings the glass to his lips, he never liked wine, but this one isn’t horrible.

“Nothin’.” He says, but she makes a noise at the back of her throat, he sighs, “The dog.  Thinking about the day we got him back.” And her grin is worth whatever touch of embarrassment he feels.

“Oh, and how is ole’- Wait a minute, wouldn’t it just be ole’ Dog since-“

He groans, and running a hand over his face in exasperation, “He doesn’t need a name, Karen.  Why would he need a name when-“

“He listens to you either way, blah blah blah.” She finishes, and takes another sip, her face becoming more and more red as time passes, “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

He shrugs, “What would I even name him?” he asks, and, truthfully, that’s probably why he doesn’t name the dog.  He’s not telling Karen that though.

Her laugh is loud in the tiny kitchen, and her eyes are warm when they look at him.  He remembers how she looked at him those first few weeks, angry mostly, but what got to him was the hurt and disappointment that she covered up quickly.  After a night like this one, one where he brought his own drink, he had told her that he _had_ to do it, didn’t matter if he wanted to.  She had understood, it still surprised him that she did, but she had told him that she _cooled down a bit_ after that last meeting, thought a little, was a bit ashamed that she did, in fact, accept the reason.  Everything from that point on was better, they still hardly talked about what he did at night (or that night specifically), or about Red too (which he was grateful for), but he could still _talk_ to her. 

About things that were important.

His family, who he was- _is_ she always reminds him.

And that’s what it is, she makes him remember.  He thanked her for it before, he didn’t know she’d keep it up though.

Her snickers bring him back again, “Are you even listening?” she asked and rapped her knuckles against the polished wood in front of him.

He wants to trace each knuckle, with his tongue preferably, but instead he answers her, “You want to name my dog after you.  Which is dumb.” And she raises her hand to point a finger straight at his face, which he irritably swipes back down.

It doesn’t deter her though, “First, it’s our dog, we rescued him together.” She continues over his muttered _technically I stole him first_ , “Second, fuck you, Karen is a great name.”

“For a person, sure.”

“What’s that suppose to mean.” Not knowing if that was insulting, seeing as thought the words themselves weren’t insulting but his tone was, strangely.

“Mean’s that ‘Karen’ isn’t a dog’s name.” he says simply

“What does _that_ mean?” she asks confused, and a little tipsy.

“It means,” he says strangely focused all of a sudden, also a little tipsy, “that you can’t just name a dog _Karen_ , it needs a not human name.”

“Like what.” Equally as invested.

“I don’t know, that’s why I can’t think of a name.”

There’s a second of silence as Frank realizes his mistake.

“I mean-“ he tries but she throws up her arms, victorious.

“Ha!” she crows, damn her, “I _knew_ it.”

He sighs, but admits defeat, too quickly if he’s being honest with himself, “I’ll think of a name.” he tells her and doesn’t think that it’ll be too bad, if her smile is anything to go by.

“You better.” She says happily, and refiles both of their glasses.

It’s hours later and they’ve stopped drinking, Karen’s got work in the morning and Frank hates hangovers, plus you can’t really fight crime effectively if you’re vomiting in your bathroom.  So they stay, somewhat uncomfortably, at the edges of slightly drunk but mostly coherent. 

So it doesn’t give them- no, he amends as she pushes up his sleeve, it doesn’t give _her_ the right, for _this_.

“Don’t draw something stupid, I’d like the bad guys to be afraid of me instead of laughing at me.”

“First of all, do you really doubt that you aren’t gonna make them piss themselves even if they see a Hello Kitty on your arm as you punch them, and second, you always wear sleeves.” She says and emphasizes her second point by picking at his other sleeve.  He can smell some sort of floral perfume as she leans over to do so, he eyes her head as she reaches back for a black sharpie.

“Please for the love of god, don’t draw the cat.”

She shrugs innocently, but her eyes are full of mirth, “No promises.” And he rolls his eyes as she uncaps the pen.

“And my shirt gets ripped sometimes, meaning that, possibly, someone could see it.” He says lastly, and her eyebrows _twitch,_ which he’d like to examine further, but her cold hands are on his forearm and the sensation of her skin on his makes his head spin. 

Slightly.

He’s not a teenager anymore, for Christ sakes.  He’ll admit to a- A _crush_ for lack of a better term, but he’s not gonna start with the high school bullshit.

The feel of the pen scratching over his skin and the floral scent ( _roses probably_ he thinks in a moment of sober clarity) engulfing him lulls him into a half sleep, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes focusing solely on Karen’s half hidden face.  He slowly takes in each inch of her, from the lashes that are stuck together by clumps of a day old mascara to bitten and wine stained lips that purse slightly as she concentrates on her drawing. 

If he could keep staring at her like this he'd gladly allow her to cover his whole arm with weird, dated cartoon characters.

He doesn’t really pay attention to what she draws though, it isn’t until he realizes that she’s moving closer and up his arm that her face is now inches from his.  His teeth clench together and his head moves down and back a bit, trying, in vain to get away and see whatever she’s decided to draw but her hand shoots up to cup his chin and pushes his head back up.

“What the hell Karen.” He says too gruffly and he clears his throat as she continues to draw, hiding it by basically draping herself over his arm.

“It’s a surprise, don’t look.” She says and he groans, she snorts, “Don’t worry you’ll like it.”

“Of course.” He says sarcastically, and she pinches his arm making him try to move away again but her hand grips his arm, hard.  “Karen, Jesus, ease up.”

“Stop moving, you’ll ruin the masterpiece.”

He stops moving, but only because her hair is closer then before.

She smells like a subtle combination of fruits and flowers now.

It’s a pleasant shift from the mix of fire, gunpowder, and blood that constantly invade his nostrils on a daily basis.

A couple of minutes later she hums, giggles, and says “That should do it.” In a satisfied tone.

“You done?” He says, determinately not sounding disappointed and only half failing.

“Yup.” She says and he moves his head to look down again but she tugs down his sleeve roughly, he groans, “Karen, you already drew it, what can I do about it now?” he asks but she shakes her head.

“You can see it later, you have to do me first though.” She says and his brain, treacherous as always, halts for a second as he tries to _process_ , but she’s wiggling the pen in front of his face.  He grabs it out of her hand, “Come on, and draw something good.” She says and since her dress has no sleeves she just rests her arm against the cold table, her fingers catching slightly on the fabric of his shirt as he shifts forward.

“Like what?” he asks, staring at her blank arm.

“Don’t know,” she says honestly and he bites back a smile, “something nice I suppose.”

“Nice?”

She laughs and shoves his shoulder with her other arm as he uncaps the pen, “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

He clicks his tongue softly in response, “Nice it is.” He says and draws a short line down her arm.

It’s silent again as he draws, and she can see why she was so concentrated before, there’s something about how the ink bleeds into the creases of her skin, how the pen moves over her arm that’s hypnotic.  Her fingers occasionally brush his shirt as he keeps moving up until she grabs the fabric between her fingers, “Soft.” She mumbles.

“Hmm.” He intones, too focused on her arm.

“Soft,” she repeats, “your shirt’s soft, where’d you get it?”

“A store.”

“Helpful.”

“There are so many stores that sell the same shit here that they all blend.”

“Untrue,” she says, and he looks up as she points at her dress, “this was purchased at that one store, with the pink lights.  That flash.  With the green trim.”

He snorts back a laugh, but her fingers pull at his shirt, “How much was this even?”

“Too much.” He replies, just to hear her huff

“You’re boring.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” he tells her, but her smile is genuine and too, too honest, so he looks back down. 

They lapse into silence again but he can tell she’s staring at him, which wouldn’t be totally unwelcome, but given the circumstances, the main one being that they’re too close and he can practically feel her breath on him, it causes a sort of strain.  He tries to immerse himself in the drawing and for the most part he does, it isn’t until he’s adding the last details that he can feel her fingers rubbing small patterns though his shirt.

“Done.” He says, and it comes out raspier then he would’ve hope.  He also wants to cover her arm up, but seeing as though she’s already moving her arm back he gives that dream up.

He leans back and stares at the picture of the dog she framed up on the wall to his right, she wanted to put both him and the dog up, but he had refused.  Safety, being the priority, if someone- She couldn’t have his face on the walls of her home if someone came and asked her about him, she wouldn’t be able to deny anything and _then_ -

He stops that though before it shadows over what is turning out to be one of the best nights he’s had in weeks.

Also Karen hasn’t said anything yet.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing, but he still doesn’t look at her.

He can hear her dress shift, flowing over her legs as she moves to touch their knees together, can see her move in his peripheral, “For what.” She asks, genuine, but her voice catches at the end a bit.

He swallows, “Don’t know.” He says, and it’s not like he’s drawn anything _incriminating_ , and with that thought he looks back over, but it’s still embarrassing.  So he looks at her arm, his drawing, instead of her face.  

But, as always, she doesn’t let him curl back into himself, “Frank.” She says, murmurs his name, and shit, it’s like she physically made his eyes move up to meet hers.

He breathes through his nose, doesn’t know what to make of the swirl of emotions in her eyes, of the ones that are probably reflected in his own, “Karen.” He answers back.

“You’re a shit artist.” She says but her words are teasing and her eyes are too _beautiful_ as she traces the stick person on her arm that has “ _KAREN”_ in capitals labeled over their block shirt.

“Never said I wasn’t.” he smirks.

And she kisses him.

Rough, with soft lips.

And he’s thought of this, this specifically, a million times over, but-

“Karen-“ he says haltingly as he pulls away, slowly, and she scrapes her chair on the ground with the force of hard she throws herself backwards.

“Oh god-“ she says, horrified, and that hurts, a bit.

“Karen, shit, I’m sorry, I know you didn’t-“

“Frank.” She says, but instead of apologizing again, her voice makes him stop.

“What?”

“Wait a second, why’d you pull back.” And her eyes narrow, he opens his mouth to answer, but she doesn’t let him, typical, “And it better be a good reason.” She says, and, because she’s her and he’s him, he rolls his eyes at her threat.

He sobers though, quick enough that that her brow furrows, “You- you don’t know what you’re doing-“

“Excuse me-“ she starts, but he puts up his hand.

“Just- let me finish.” And she reluctantly nods her head, “You’re not safe with me-“

“I’m hardly safe _without_ you.”

“That’s not shutting up.”

“Sorry, please continue your bullshit.”

He sighs and rubs a hand through his hair, “It’s not bullshit, you’re not even safe with me even if we aren’t- Together.”

“Frank-“ she tries, but he talks over her.

“Imagine if we-" he stops and grasps at the words, “In my, line of work, the death rate-“

“Frank, shut up.”

“Is high.  Especially with more gangs with me on their shit list then Red.  And I won’t do that to you.  Can’t.” and he wills her to understand, like all of the other times, to let him slink out of here, come back in a couple of days, weeks, let her cool down, sober up a bit more.

He wills it, but a tiny part of him, hope that she won’t, that she’ll just say-

“Frank, you dumbass.” And she kisses him again, this time it’s short and soft, and before he can say a word she puts a hand to his cheek, cradling, “Hear me out.” She asks and he nods, helplessly, but he can feel his resolve slipping already, the now warm hand sapping every argument he has.

She continues, gentle fingers rub back and forth on his cheekbones, “I know you’ve got your reasons for not wanting this.  I know that, but do I get a say?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

“Not shutting up.”

“Hmm.”

“And do you know what I say?” she asks, and his eyebrows raise as her other hand rest on his thigh, her face lowering as she moves closer, “I see how you look at me, Frank, I see it all the Goddamn time and I’m not letting that go, alright.  We’re gonna grab any happiness we can get our hands on.  We’ve both been denied it, and that’s not fair, and it doesn't matter if we're together physically or not, your death-” She stops, and her voice is down to a whisper, but it’s the only thing he can hear, other then his heart beating loudly in his ears, “I want you and you want me and I wont let you walk away because you think I'd only care about you if we sleep together, got it?” she asks.

“Is that rhetorical?”

And she kisses him, again, and this time he kisses her back, hard.  Their noses bump and his stubble drags across her face, but she tastes like the wine that’s been forgotten on the table when she slips her tongue in his mouth.

“Karen.” He mumbles parting a little bit to breathe and her hand moves up and down his leg, squeezing nicely.

“I got you.” She replies, her voice is thick and she gets up quickly.  His body follows hers but she pushes him down and she smirks, “I _got_ you.” She repeats herself, but this time she stands at her full height and moves back a couple of steps.  Her hands move to her back and he hears the zipper of her dress undo and suddenly, _wonderfully naked,_  she’s back in his arms and her mouth is back on his.

Her sides are covered by his hands, and his fingers find their way to the back of her bra.  He tries to unclasp them, but he hasn’t done this in a _while_ and he can’t seem to get them undone, she feels him struggle, huffing, somehow, against her lips, and she laughs, “These things are awful.” He tells her

“Yup.” She says, and expertly unhooks them.

“We should burn them.”

“Bra burning, a man after my own heart.” She says, but he’s too busy running his mouth over the tops and sides of her breasts to answer. 

He tries to kiss every inch he can get his mouth to from where she’s perched on his lap, her legs on each side’s of his.  She’s kissing his shoulder and turning her head towards his as he bites gently at the side of her breast, his other hand pinching at her nipple, “Frank.” She says breathes, puffing air against his neck.

His mouth is still on her but he starts to mumble promises, “I’m gonna get you in a bed,” he says, almost conversationally, even if his voice is wrecked, “yeah.  Lay you down, mark you up, maybe.  Let you see ‘em the next day, when you shower, putting on that fuckin’ skirt.  Shit, Karen, I want you to fucking _feel_ me when you sit in that nice office of yours.” He says as he kisses her ribs, hands still squeezing her, the moans next to his ears become more like gasps.

“Gonna hold you to that,” she says but, frustratingly, she moves away again, he wants to _taste_ her, “but for now…” She trails off as she slides off, her knees hitting the linoleum under them with a small thud.  “Take off your shirt.” She tells him and he leans forward slightly, quickly taking off the shirt as her hands rub his calves, her head pillowed on his knee.  When his shirt hits the floor she moves forward and parts his leg, he’s never been more glad that her chairs don’t come with arms.  She tugs him forward, enough that he’s almost teetering off the edge, but he get’s comfortable enough as she runs her hands over his abdomen. She puts a hand over his zipper, “You remember that restaurant I brought you to, that one time?” she asks, and his hands tuck back a strand of hair behind her ear.

“The fancy one.”

“That was defiantly not a fancy place, the amount of dress you needed to wear were slacks.”

“I wore slacks.” He says confused, but his head is not one hundred percent focused on the fancy restaurant she brought him to about three months ago.

“I know.” She snorts, this time though she unzips him, and slowly she starts to pull at his jeans.  He lifts his hips up a bit so she can wedge them off, she pulls at each pant leg and his socks come off along with them.  She runs her mouth of his thigh, and he can feel a tremble go through him as she shifts his legs wider and she starts mouthing at the inside of his thigh.  Just as he did with her, she keeps talking, kissing as much as she can without taking his straining boxers off, “Those pants were the bane of my existence that night.” She tells him and he huffs out an unexpected laugh, he can feel her lips curve into a smile.

“Yeah?”

She breathes out a laugh against his leg, “Yeah, wanted to run my foot up your leg like we were on a date-“

“What kind of first date-“

She bites his thigh, “Like we were on a date,” she continues forcefully, making him bite his lips, “I wanted to climb under that damn table and suck you off until someone heard you, or you’d come down my throat.  God, wanted you so fucking bad that night, thought I was gonna lose the lead we were there for.” She finishes and this time he groans at her words and at the fact that she ends her story by mouthing at his dick through his underwear, her hot breath making his head fall back on the chair.

“Karen, _Christ_ \- Karen, come on.” He pleads, and she hums, but this time, blessedly, she hooks her fingers at the tops of his underwear and starts to drag them down.  Her breath is shallow as she drops them on the floor next to her dress, “Knew those pants weren’t lying.” She mutters, mostly to herself, but he still hears and laughs, “Something funny?” she asks, but before he can tell her, she’s spitting in her hand and wrapping a loose fist around him.  She moves her hand up and down his shaft, “Thought so.” She says, grin in her voice, but all he can do is helplessly clutch at the bottom of the chair and run a hand through his hair.

“Ah, fuck, harder, babe.  Please.”

“I’ve got you.” She replies with her older words, and she speeds up, but this time he can feel her arms press against his legs as she moves forward, and suddenly he can’t think straight because her mouth is on him and that she’s _moaning_.  It’s sending vibrations all the way through his body and he loses himself in the heat of her mouth.  She can’t take all of him in, but her hand is jerking him off, harder then before, her spit that pools around her mouth is enough to make everything wet and hot.  Her tongue works at him and she pulls back a bit to swirl it around the head of his dick, making him look back down at her, and he catches her eyes as he grips her hair between his fingers.

“Yeah, Karen, good- That’s so good, fuck you’re so-“ He can’t finish the sentence because she’s back on him but this time he can feel her pushing him deeper, she gags and he tries to move back, but she just clenches her hands around his hips trying to still him, and all he can do is try not to fuck up into her mouth too much. 

Her mouth pulses around him suddenly, and his legs still and his stomach tightens as he curls over her as she tries to swallow all of him, her hands flatten on his stomach.  

After he’s done she pushes off of him and his hip twitch forward at the sensation, she climbs back on his lap and her mouth is so, _so_ red he can’t help kissing her, trying to taste himself in her mouth, moaning at the fact that he _can_.

A couple of minutes later he starts to kiss her gentler, short pecks starting with her lips, her cheeks, traveling down her jaw.  His hands go down her back and stop at the feel of her underwear, he makes a sound at the fact that she’s _still_ wearing them, he slips his hand under them and palms at her ass, his fingers run up the sides of her cunt and he can feel her shiver against him. 

He slowly pushes his index finger in, and she bucks into it, his other hand still on her ass holding her apart so he can get a better angle.  She closes her eyes and thumps her forehead against his, but his eyes are open and he stares up at her so he can catch each expression of her face, “Wanna taste you,” he says truthfully adding more fingers, and her face flushes pink.  How that makes her blush and not the fact that he just came in her mouth, he doesn’t understand, “Want you to come all over my face.” He tells her and his voice is embarrassing at this point but Karen’s digging her nails into his shoulder and her mouth is opening in a soundless moan when he adds another finger and she's so keyed up she comes, clenching around his fingers. 

He wants to hear her though, so he doesn’t take his fingers out, just starts to pump them faster, and she could probably come like this again, but he wants to _hear_ her for fucks sake, “God, babe- You gotta, touch yourself, come on,” her hands move to her clit at his encouragement, almost, he thinks somewhat hysterically, like she forgot it was there.

“Fuck- Frank, kiss me, fucking- Just kiss me, please.” She moans, half into his mouth because she didn’t have to ask twice.  Her teeth catch on his lip and she _scraps_ at them, he can feel himself hardening again, but he just keeps his built up rhythm, probably leaving finger shaped bruises on her ass also.

“Yeah, like that- Come for me like that, touching yourself.” He says and abruptly she’s grinding down on his fingers and he can see her fingers move once, twice, before she cries out, his name on her lips.  He kisses her again, sweeter, as she rides his fingers through the aftershocks. 

After she’s come down, he takes his fingers out of her and he can see her belly jump.  She lowers herself onto his lap and rests her head on his shoulder, his hands move from her ass to her back, holding her to him.  They don’t talk for a while, just holding each other, and he could stay there, on the old chair in her small kitchen, forever, but his ass is getting numb and Karen’s already half asleep.

He kisses her shoulder once, gently, and picks her up, wrapping her legs around him as he walks them to her bedroom.  He kicks open the door, and lowers down enough to get the covers off first.  He covers the blankets over her body as he lays her down and moves back up to the other side, getting under the covers on his side and resting his arm over her abdomen.  He stays awake for as long as he can, cataloging all of her expressions as she dreams, until sleep over comes him too.

The next morning, he wakes up to her kissing his neck, one leg thrown over his as she jerks him off.

There are few things he can think of, but the fact remains that he’s eternally grateful that he let her kiss him that second time, that she didn’t let go of him.

-x-

“What the fuck is on your arm, Frank.”

“Do you wanna die too Red?”

“No, seriously, is that a- Shit, Frank I’m kidding, stop.  No, don’t throw the dead guy at me, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“Fuck off.”

**Author's Note:**

> 7:44 am i wish i was dead...
> 
> anyway, this was way longer then i thought i was gonna write and i'm so tired i might have written the same sentence over and over again, if so, i'll fix it later..
> 
> thanks for reading, yall are the best!!
> 
> follow my tumblr if u want a-small-jewel-shard.tumblr.com !  
> ...
> 
> (u know im wondering why no ones called me out on the whole how the hell can matt comment on the drawing when hes blind... like i have a answer that i couldn't add into the story or it would lose its *comedic effect* but yall are so nice)
> 
> **  
> I can't believed my fics got rec'd both this one and trust me to take you home, like this is honestly the happiest i've ever been, thank u guys so much, honestly, like this means a lot to me!


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